Amazing Grace
by amethyst noir
Summary: Relena is trapped between two warring armies but manages to find some comfort in a Rebel camp where she meets a general she can't seem to get off her mind.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This is just a creative piece that you may or may not find worth reading, though I do hope for the latter :) It's set in the 1800's and modeled after the Civil War era and is sort of AU. It's not going to be a very long story, but if you like it drop me a review please!

**Disclamer:** I do not own Gundam Wing.

**Amazing Grace**

She hated him. And she was sure of it. As they sat atop the black horse in the middle of a deserted road in the mountain town of Oslo, Norway, Relena looked at her husband of one year in amazement, "You want me to stay here?"

"And wait for me. I have to meet someone. Get down."

"Here? In the woods? This early in the morning? I thought we were finding our way to the train station."

Charles Baltair jumped from the rich, leather saddle, pebbles kicking up from his shoes, the gravel making a rough sound in the still air. He looked both ways around him as if he were expecting something--or someone, then helped his wife down.

"We'll get to the train station. Just wait for me here." He ducked under a low branch of a leafy elm, pulling the horse by the reigns behind him.

"Where are we? Charles!" She wondered if they would miss the train. Then she wondered what would happen to their portmanteau. But Relena was not sorry to see him go. She savored every moment without him and had taken a liking to exploration of the strange places he took her on "business", whatever that was. In Brussels, Luxembourg, Nice, Madrid, and the latest being Oslo, Relena had risen early in the morning, before the birds were awake, just to be alone. She loved the outdoors; it inspired her; she reached for it as a flower reached for the light.

Charles never answered and soon disappeared into the woods to her right. With a sigh, she looked around her at the coming dawn. How long would he be? Where had he gone? It was selfish of him to leave her in the middle of a war--and without the horse. But he was nothing if he was not selfish.

Relena Peacecraft had married Charles Baltair because her father and mother decided it best for her to marry a respectable man--which simply meant a man of _their_ choice.

Charles Baltair had courted her a few times to balls and the like when he was in the area. He owned a business in Hartford, but no one seemed to know exactly what that business was. He oozed money and easily won over her father. A wedding was planned and when Relena was eighteen, she married.

There was no wedding trip and not much of a house into which to move. Charles never let her near his study, saying it was no place for women. They rarely had guests and even more rarely went out. It was as if he had something to hide. And worst of all, he acted as if she was not even there. It was a lonely life for a young woman.

When the war started in 1851, Relena begged Charles to let her help with the relief organizations. He firmly denied her, and suddenly was out of the house more than he was in. She began to get suspicious of him then, but pushed the fears aside. With what fabric she could find, Relena sewed socks and tunics and had a driver bring them to the Christian Commission. And she began to write in a journal. Other than the letters she wrote her few acquaintances, this was her main outlet of conversation.

The early morning, before the sun changed the sky to brilliant blue, was Relena's favorite time because the silver mist of dawn engulfed her, made her a wanderer, a spirit. And thus the words flowed from her pen. So she took out the leather bound book and began to write. She described the road she was on, the trees above her, the small speck of sky that peeked down at her. It all seemed so wondrous--and quiet. No one would know that a war had been tearing apart a nation for over a year.

Relena Peacecraft-Baltair was young, only nineteen, with fair hair, long and flowing, framing her lovely, unblemished face. Even with her fresh, beautiful looks, she had not attracted many men. Her father told her it was because of her stubborn nature and that she should be glad to have Charles' attentions.

More massive trees arched gracefully overhead, forming a thick canopy above her. The dirt road was dark, almost foreboding, but Relena was only a little scared. Moving around with her mother and father had taught her to conquer fear. Though she seemed happiest when she was by herself.

A brook gurgled to her left. It made a path between and over smooth rocks. She paused, and peered into the woods until she could see the glistening water romping its way past the gnarled tree roots. Bending down, she picked up a bulky limb from the ground and dragged it behind her.

Laying the stick down, Relena lifted her skirts and maneuvered her way to the top of a large boulder. Sitting there in the peace and quiet, as she waited for her husband to return, she began in earnest to write.

Rat-tat. Rat-tat, she thought she heard. Then, tilting her head to the right, she was sure of the hollow, popping noise. Once when they were in Madrid, she had seen a newly-formed regiment of young soldiers during firing practice, aiming this way and that to the bellow of the sergeant, and that noise had been similar. Was she near an army?

She looked up again, into the tangle of trees. The sun's arms poked through, drawing a maze of lines on the ground beside her as she continued her entry, _'Charles has made his way through the woods. I don't know when he will return. All is quiet here, but then it is hardly morning.' _When she glanced to her right to prepare her thoughts, she could actually see bayonets stacked in an odd line and long, disassembled rows of men.

Closing the journal quickly, she slid off the rock, and leaned forward to peer more closely. A face! It turned in her direction. Relena jumped back. Ahead of her, at the end of the road, was an incline, a small snip of a hill, one more open and safe. Too ridiculously alarmed, Relena laughed at herself and quickly made her way there.

"Halt!" Came a loud voice.

Relena started, heard the gruff tones of a man nearby. But there was no one in sight. She waited a beat, her heart pounding in her ears, then laughed again. She was truly going crazy.

"It isn't a laughing matter!"

She froze. "Who's there?"

"It's me that should be asking the questions, mademoiselle." A short, overweight man in tattered, drab clothing stepped forward. Upon his head was a slouched farmer's hat. A long, scraggly beard covered his pockmarked face and he held a rifle in his stubby, calloused hands. He used the weapon to block her path.

Relena steadied her voice. "You-you scared me!" Her hands went out in an apologetic gesture. "You see, I'm waiting for my husband. It's so quiet here, I thought I would walk. Am I on your property?"

"Who do you work for?" His accent was heavy and thick. As he approached her, she noticed he wore no shoes. His feet were caked with mud.

"I don't understand. I work for no one."

"Whoever they are, I'm afraid they aren't gonna get our position this time around." He roughly grabbed her arm.

"Let go of me!" She raised her voice, indignantly. What was he talking about? "Let go of me! You have no right..."

"I have plenty of right. You walked through my picket line and now I'm going to have to take you to the general."

"What did you say?" Relena squinted, as if that would clear things up. Picket line? General? What was he talking about? Was she actually within the confines of the Rebel Army? Had Charles actually left her alone between the two warring sides?

"Look, I'm sorry. This is just a mistake. Please, put away the gun. I'll leave right now, I promise."

The man did not release her. "I don't know anything about that, mademoiselle; you'll still have to come with me."

Struggling out of his grasp, Relena ran back down the dark road. Within seconds, she fell. Hands and elbows were scraped and dirty, and tears of confusion and fear came to her eyes. She looked at herself. Her off-white floor-length day-dress with green pinstripes and bows along the front was smeared with dirt. The left lace of her boots had snapped--the culprit of her fall. What could she do? She was a Pacifist.

"Please..." Relena began to cry.

The rifle was pointed at her face. She could smell the dank, bitter smell of gunpowder. "Get up slowly, mademoiselle. Don't make any sudden moves and nothing will happen to you."

She struggled to find the ground inside her skirts. He had her by the elbow and brought her to her feet. Relena's head was swimming. She felt dizzy, nauseous, and even though she blinked again and again, she still could not see straight.

"The lady certainly don't look so good." Three other men came out of their tree-top hiding places. "Kinda sickly. Do you think she's the one, Corporal Little?"

"I saw her holding that book, Private. Scouting our position, writing it down; probably inclined to traipse on over to that Alliance camp to give us away. No one's going to say a pretty lady like that is lying."

"Accept you!"

"Accept me." Little was happy with his find. The general would be proud of him, might even go so far as to give him a battlefield promotion. Wouldn't the wife and children back home be happy about that? A little extra money; more food on the table. For one and a half long years he had fought in this war and with no glory. Things would change now.

Relena scrutinized her captors. Four men; all older than her, dirty, each wearing a different uniform, surrounded her. All held rifles and wore arrogant, lop-sided smiles.

"Let's go." Little commanded.

One soldier took off his belt. "Wait! If she's a prisoner, we should tie her hands!" He looked menacingly at their captive. Rotted teeth, peeking through his smiling lips, threatened to fall to the ground.

As the others nodded in assent, Relena closed her eyes, fearfully. She took a step back. "Feisty, are you? They'll beat that out of you in prison camp!" One man, with carrot-red hair, waved his rifle at her. She could see down its long, echoing barrel.

They grabbed her hands and roughly tied them in front of her. Silently, she let herself be towed to a camp not far away. Biting her lip, she stared in amazement: just yards away from where she had been sitting, the hill was crowded with rows and rows of white tents. A small house at one end of the field had smoke wafting from its chimney. Three soldiers ate from tin plates while sitting on wooden crates. One man gave a comrade a shave. Men cooked outside with open pots balanced over large campfires.

"Smell that breakfast."

Relena felt nauseous again. What were they going to do with her? Take her to the general, Little had said. Surely, he would see reason and she would find her husband and meet her train as planned.

As they marched by the endless sea of Rebel soldiers busying themselves for the new day, some stared at her. Their heads turned as the small group of pickets led the young woman away. "Please, I've done nothing wrong."

The leader of the small band of soldiers did most of the talking. "I don't know that for sure, mademoiselle. All I know is that I was doing my job when you came along. The general doesn't take kindly to spies."

"A spy? Is that what you think I am?"

"Think? I'm all but sure of it!"

Relena could think of but one thing to do. It was a long-shot, really reaching, but she had read in a paper about a Rebel general supposedly disgraced on the battlefield. Perhaps it would work. "Where is General Zechs?"

"General Zechs Marquise?"

She breathed. They had heard of him. "Yes. Where is he?"

"Do you think I'm going to tell a spy? What do you take me for?"

"You don't understand..." The rest of her sentence was lost as one man held her head down and another booted her under a canopy. She blinked as the sunshine disappeared. A scratched, roll-top desk sat in the far corner of the large tent, with a partitioned box on top of it. Four or five wooden chairs were unfolded in a semi-circle in the center, and they pushed her in one. She noticed two lanterns hanging from either end of the canopy above her.

"I understand fine, mademoiselle." Little untied the belt that bound her hands, then replaced it with a thick cord of rope. He wrapped it a few times around her wrists and knotted the end.

The other end he tied to one of the tent poles. With a wave of his hands, he dismissed his men.

The shade made her cold. "No, you don't understand." She shivered. "I must speak with him. I'm General Zechs' cousin."

"A cousin with a suspicious accent." He spat the words out with spittle from his dirty mouth.

"That's not so unusual. I'll bet even you have some odd blood in you..." He hit her. It was a slap a father would give a disobedient child. Her face stung; her head jerked to the right. She wanted to scream out that it was a mistake, to let her alone, but knew it was useless.

"Don't tell me I've Royal trash blood in me and don't try to sneak away! I'm going for my superior officer right now."

Relena took a deep breath and blinked back tears when she was alone. She wondered where Charles had gone. Had he not known that he had left her surrounded by--of all armies--the Rebel army!

Somewhere deep in her heart, Relena knew Charles was in trouble. He had left her there on purpose, so he could get away quickly with the horse. Having his wife along would only hinder his journey. But Relena refused to believe he cared so little for her to let her be killed as a spy. Her heart sped up again. How would she get out alive?

General Zechs Marquise was in Powl's Division, from what the Gazette had said. Maybe she could fool someone into believing she was a relative of a Rebel general.

On the oak desk chair she saw the Oslo newspaper with a date in bold type: September 15, 1852...Beneath the date and a headline about the Rebel blockade in the south was a small article announcing the capture of most of a spy ring from England. Her eyesight had gotten worse over the years, but she could make out the name of her husband's company in tiny print: Baltair Enterprises.

-----

He was busy writing up reports for General Treize. Three of them, explanations for three skirmishes, were due at Treize's headquarters the next day. He wanted a full report on how the troops were deployed on the hills. His men were in three key locations.

It was a warm morning for mid-September. He should have been used to it. Usually, he never had trouble writing; the battles played themselves over in his mind. He studied them, learned from the mistakes; then gained tactical expertise. But this time the right words would not come to him and he was getting frustrated. His mind was elsewhere.

After a stretch and a sigh, he began again. _The major brought up his men from the rear, forming two obliques. There was a charge, much like the ones in Sweden...Ah, Stockholm--the military academy, Gothenburg--the bridge, Powl and Zechs..._ "No!" A yell, a growl. Crumpling the paper into a ball, he threw it to the ground, then sat back in his chair, breathing evenly, trying to calm down. When would it end? When would he be able to go back to his only home? Before it was too late and they were gone, too?

"General?"

He turned to his aide-de-camp. Blue met violet. "What is it?"

"A spy. One of our pickets may have caught the spy that's been revealing our position...sir."

"Are you sure about this?"

"She was on the North Road, near Akershus*, writing messages in this book." The young braided man handed his superior officer the leather-bound book. Inside was blank, except for a few scribbled lines on various pages. The sentences were in quotes.

"Has she been questioned?"

"Not yet, sir. I'm on my way over to her now. She's been placed under guard; tied up, at least. Is there anywhere special you want me to go with my line of questioning?"

"Find out who she works for. Where she came from. And whose orders these are." The general slammed the book to his desk. Damn spies. They made his job that much harder. A scout was bad enough, but they did not hurt anyone, merely found out what was ahead, through the trees and sheltered mountain passes. Nothing was left to chance for either side and both armies utilized them. But spies. Just the word brought a bitter taste to his mouth.

They deliberately destroyed important orders--left holes in the chain of command that killed too many indispensable men.

"Anything else, sir?" The aide was waiting patiently.

"Don't go easy on her. We've been compromised too many times because of her and I want answers."

The aide saluted. "Yes, sir."

The general watched the staff officer walk away. He had made his acquaintance on a Stockholm-bound train. He had personally chosen him to be on his growing staff. All the men would gladly give their lives for the cause.

Hopefully, it would never come to that.

It was useless; his mind refused to return to the arduous task at hand. He threw the pencil to the desk and picked up the framed daguerreotype off his armoire.

"It's almost over," he whispered.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Thanks for the reviews guys! Glad you like my little tale, keep on reading!

* * *

It seemed a lifetime before anyone talked to her. Soldiers came and went, and never even glanced her way. Relena had yet to see another woman in the camp. Just men who moved slowly, lazily in the September sun. Some did chores, carrying laundry baskets and armfuls of wood; others just stretched in the rising autumn heat. Camp life did not appear to be too stressful.

Finally, someone poked his head in. "I've been told to ask you if you want some food or coffee."

Her growling stomach gave the answer. "Both would be nice. But I can't eat this way." Relena nodded toward her bound and chafed hands.

"I suppose I will have to feed you." The soldier was young, fair of face, with blond hair and blue eyes. His uniform coat was tan, loose brown suspenders held up ill-fitting trousers, and he, too, was devoid of shoes.

Momentarily, he returned with a beat-up tin plate. On it was a yellow clump and something hard. Relena saw a long, furry insect crawling on top of the food, and she screamed, triggering the young soldier to toss the plate. As it flew into the air, its contents, including the uninvited breakfast guest, spilled onto the ground with a clatter.

The boy stamped his foot. "Oh! I'm terribly sorry miss."

"What was that--that thing--on the plate?"

"Insects are quite common here. You move them out of the way and the food isn't so bad." He motioned with his hands how the process was done, though his face told her that he didn't find it very appetizing either.

Her stomach turned over once and she thought she might throw up. How could they eat this way and then fight a war? It would be a wonder if the Rebels won, important victories or not. "Can you tell me what's going on here? I have to go home."

"I can't tell you anything', ma'am, I'm sorry. You're a spy."

"I am not a spy. You must believe me."

"Just tell me what you know about us. Maybe the general will go easier on you ma'am."

"I don't know anything, I swear. I don't work for anyone. This is a mistake. I don't belong here."

Leaving the plate and food on the floor, he sadly shrugged and left the tent. She thought about what she had just said to the young soldier as he walked with purposeful strides toward his comrades--I don't belong here...And again she was reminded of her husband Charles, escaping through the woods, most likely hooking up with another member of the spy ring.

How could she have been so blind? Practically under her nose, her husband had been gaining secrets from the Alliance, selling them to the Rebels, then selling what he had learned from the Rebels back to the Alliance. If he got off easy, he would be hanged as a traitor; but if not, he would be running all his life until he found someone he could trust. Relena hoped for the former.

Relena began to cry, she had to be careful. Obviously, she was being implicated in her husband's crime. When would she ever see her family again? Her mother? Her father? Was she truly all alone?

She had never been so scared. Her whole life--everything she had become, everything she had worked so hard for--was at stake. Relena had to find out what was going on.

"Miss Peacecraft, isn't it?"

Relena looked up at the man, tears still brimming in the corners of her blue eyes. He bent down and wiped them away with a dirty white handkerchief he returned to his pocket. The man was young with chestnut hair tied back in a long unusual braid, and sparkling violet-blue eyes. He wore an officer's uniform, with a belt buckled over the heavy gray jacket and a black leather pouch slung diagonally across his body. His uniform coat was dirty, as if he had been walking in the dust for a long time.

She thought it safer to stick with her maiden name. "Yes?" There was red piping on his sleeves, which swirled up both arms in an intricate design and reminded her of clef notes on a bar of music.

"So," he sat authoritatively in the desk chair. "I hope you haven't been too uncomfortable."

"No, I mean, yes. I don't understand why I'm here. I didn't do anything wrong. I apologized to the man back there, told him I knew I was in the wrong place..."

"I'll say."

"...but he still did this." She nodded at herself.

The young man snickered and Relena was insulted. She wasn't lying. Someone had to believe her. Her life depended on it.

"You're putting on a good act, Miss Peacecraft, but I know you're a spy. You won't be leaving here until you tell me what I need to know. And if you don't tell me, I'll just ship you into the General and well, you wouldn't want that, trust me."

"I'm not a spy!"

"I know you are. I saw what you were writing. Charles must be a name of an accomplice. That's what I need to know. Tell me what you know of our position!"

"That's from my journal. It has nothing to do with anyone but me."

He dragged his chair across the uneven ground until he was sitting in front of her. "Tell me the truth and you won't get hurt."

Her breathing became ragged. "If you honestly think I'm a spy, then you're a fool."

"Watch your tone," he snapped angrily.

She took a moment to compose herself, "Please tell me who you are? What camp this is?"

"I'm Duo Maxwell, aide-de-camp for the First Corps, Army of Stockholm."

_Appeal to his reason._ "If I was a spy, wouldn't I have known that?"

"Who's saying you didn't?"

She sighed. "I'm saying I didn't. I don't even know where I am."

"Tell me where you came from."

"England."

"Uh huh..." Duo was shaking his head.

Relena knew she was prosecuting herself. He must have read the September 15th Oslo paper where 'Broken English Spy Ring' was in bold print. "That doesn't mean I'm a spy, Major..."

"Captain, ma'am. I'm Captain Maxwell."

"That doesn't make me a spy, Captain."

"It's quite a ways from England to Scandinavia. How did you happen to get here?"

"I-I was visiting the area."

"At a time like this?"

Be quiet, Relena, a voice inside told her, you are only making things worse. "I was with my husband. We had a disagreement. He left me--on that road back there." Not quite a lie...

The captain's face softened. "I'm sorry about that ma'am. But he left you in the wrong place. Do you have relatives in Oslo?"

"No, he's conducting business here."

"What kind of business?"

How long was this questioning to last? Would he ever let up? Relena felt stupid not knowing the nature of her own husband's business. There had to be a front for Baltair Enterprises. "I don't know, Major-I mean, Captain. I don't get involved with my husband's work. All I know is he's in business for himself."

"I see. I'm sorry, but I didn't notice a wedding ring." He lifted Relena's now-dirty hand.

She yanked it away. "I took it off last night. In our hotel. I must not have put it back on." In truth, Relena could not remember removing it. Had Charles stolen it from her hand during the night? She was shaking. "He-he's probably come back for me already. Heaven knows what he'll do if I'm not where he left me."

Duo shook his head and smiled, then reached over and untied her hands. "I can see I'm not getting anywhere with you." Gratefully, Relena rubbed her sore wrists where red marks had already formed. He took her by the arm and led her outside. It was humid and she was hungry. Hungry enough to share a bite with any insects that came along. Men formed for drill along a central dirt area. The sergeant shouted orders and the lines of six to eight obeyed.

"Where are you taking me?"

"To see the General."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** I'm so very glad you like it! Again, thanks for the support guys!

* * *

_To see the General!_

She stopped, feet planted firmly on the soft ground. Duo had proudly bragged about the harsh general. Relena had no intention of going graciously to the slaughter.

"Come on." His grip tightened.

"Get your hands off me!" Relena yelled loudly, knowing she was making a scene, feeling the stares of the enlisted men. "I'm not going anywhere with you. I've got rights..."

Duo was angry and his ivory-handled pistol came out of its sheath, and poked mercilessly into her side. "Please Miss Peacecraft." He emphasized his point with a shove.

"Duo." A slow drawl. "That's enough, thank you."

The captain snapped to attention and gave the man at the door a sharp salute. The man saluted back, reached out a hand, and helped Relena to her feet.

"Have a seat, Miss Peacecraft." He gestured to the neatly-made cot. "Thank you, Duo You're relieved."

"Yes, sir." Spinning on his foot, Duo left the tent.

Relena shivered, looked around. The trunk across from her was open and folded over the side was a gray officer's coat. An armoire was to her left--also open--and inside, shirts hung on pegs. Above the armoire was a elaborately carved pipe, a box of matches, and a framed picture of a woman. Relena wondered if she was his wife. Beneath the picture was a lace doily.

Then she gazed at the man. He was imposing, broadly built, and wore a crisp white shirt and a gray vest over his regulation gray pants. He bent down, picked up the papers that had fallen from the desk and the tan felt hat she landed on.

"Nearly took care of my hat." He said, coaxing it back into shape.

"I'm sorry." She could barely speak. "Your captain pushed me."

"Don't worry about it. Captain Maxwell gets carried away sometimes, but I'd trust no one else to get the job done. Other than that small display of force, are you alright?"

"I'm afraid you're barking up the wrong tree, General..."

"Oh, forgive me for not introducing myself. I'm General Heero Yuy." He bowed, brandishing the rumpled hat. "Commander of the First Corps, Army of Stockholm."

A deep breath. "I'm not a spy, General Yuy."

"It would be better for you if you told the truth now. There might not be a later."

"I am telling the truth."

"I wish I could believe someone as lovely as you, ma'am. But I'm forced by my better judgment not to." He pulled the desk chair near her and sat down. "What Captain Maxwell may have done will be nothing compared with the punishment you'll receive if you keep up this charade. You're obviously with the Alliance, and one found right in the middle of a Rebel picket line. You were carrying a book filled with very peculiar notes. If you were in my shoes, Miss Peacecraft, what would you believe?"

Relena looked to the canopy and sighed. Her shoulder was throbbing and an ache had formed over her left eye. "My husband and I had a disagreement. He deserted me by your picket line. That's what I told your captain and it's the truth!"

"Where did you see what your book describes?"

"On that road back there."

Heero laughed. His Prussian blue eyes glistened in the dim light that filtered through the tent, half obscured by unruly brown bangs. He was a handsome man. "Try again, Miss Peacecraft."

"General Zechs Marquise is a cousin of mine. If I could just..."

"I don't remember Zechs mentioning any relatives."

"Take me to him."

He leaned toward her. "You're in no position to make demands. I'll ask again. Where did you see what your book describes?"

Relena did not answer--could not. She did not know what to say next. No one was going to believe she was anything but a spy captured in enemy territory. Her story about Zechs wasn't working, and neither was her story about a husband who deserted her, even though for all intensive purposes, that one was true. She had to escape, find her way back to the road, and pray that her husband felt guilty enough to return before she was killed.

"I-I need to stretch my legs. Can I?"

"I won't let you walk alone. But I'll grant your request. Captain Barton!"

A different young man entered the tent. He was neat where Duo was dirty; close-shaven as well. His long brown bangs obscured one of is green eyes as he silently appraised Relena. "Yes General?"

"Trowa, Miss Peacecraft needs to stretch her legs. Accompany her on a walk around the camp."

"Yes, sir. Right this way, Miss Peacecraft."

They walked shoulder to shoulder around the perimeter of the camp. Trowa was a gentleman, talking trivialities with her, showing her the mess tent, the surgeon's station, the post office, the common area where troops drilled. He informed her that Heero was strict about drills and musters between engagements.

Relena saw a group of trees coming up to their left--the perfect cover if she could get away. They were full, thick pine trees; dense and dark. She breathed easier as an idea formed. "Captain, I think I dropped my handkerchief back there a ways. Could you get it for me? It's well--sentimental."

"Of course. I'll only be a moment."

As soon as he strayed from her, she bolted, like lightening, into the trees. It was easy at first. She tripped three times over roots jutting from the ground, but quickly regained her balance. Then the first bullet whizzed by her ear. Soon another hit a branch above her head, showering pine needles on her. It took everything she had not to scream. Footsteps other than her own were behind her. Closer. Closer. Relena could see the light at the other end of the forest! She was almost there.

Down she went, to the ground. Rolling on the leaves. The wind knocked out of her. Rifles positioned against her head. Her hands were wrestled to her back and tied. Groans, low and pitiful, escaped her throat. It was all over now.

"Come on, spy!" A group of soldiers dragged her to Trowa.

Other voices joined in. "Yeah, see if you try that again! A woman trying to make a fool out of us. Not a chance!"

The shouts were worse than real fists coming down on her. She felt crushed, suffocated. As she was thrust at Trowa, she noticed the disappointed look on his face. She had betrayed his trust, the general's, too. There was no way they would leave her alone again.

"I've got her. You're relieved. Go back about your duties." Trowa held tight to her trembling arm.

Heero stood at the doorway of his tent, arms crossed over his chest. He was waiting. He had seen the whole show. "Bring her here, Captain."

Trowa saluted before he left Relena with the general. Heero was too calm, too deliberate. It scared her. "That was a stupid thing to do, Miss Peacecraft."

She didn't answer.

"If you ever expected me to believe your story, why did you try to run?"

She still didn't answer, and he continued. "You're only proving your guilt. I can hang you!" His face was close to hers. She smelled lye soap and cigar smoke. The general turned, hands behind his back and paced his tent. "I think maybe we should visit General Treize. I can defer you to his judgement." Heero reminded her of Pontius Pilate in the New Testament of the Bible. _I wash my hands of you._ "Or I could keep you here. There'll be a fight soon. Maybe I'll let you watch your Alliance being slaughtered--a slaughter that could have included my men had you reached your contact. How would that be?"

Relena's eyes grew wide. He would not, could not force her to watch a battle. Her imagination had already run wild from the hundreds of vivid newspaper accounts printed in all the papers. The nightmares kept her awake.

"What do you think about that?" He repeated. His hand was raised as if he'd strike her. "Answer me!" The general roared.

His expression alone was frightening, as he shook in fury. Feeling faint, Relena dropped to the floor, crying, shaking, begging him to stop.

"Duo!" Heero yelled, furious. "Take her! Find her a tent!"

Duo had seen the whole thing: her escape, her capture; had heard it all: the yelling, her shrill wail. The aide did not salute, only stared. Relena was trembling so violently, she was unable to stand on her own, so he picked her up, feeling an odd sensation in his gut. Never had Duo witnessed Heero lose his temper with a woman. The general was usually the model of charm in front of the opposite sex.

Placing her in an empty tent, the one used for visiting dignitaries, Duo left her alone.

------

Heero paced, kicked the desk chair, heard the leg splinter. Paced again. Damn! What had gotten into him? He never behaved that way before. He relived those few moments as if they were stages of a major battle: first the probing, the advance skirmish; then the reply, the beginnings of the battle; and finally the retreat--she had tried to escape! He had done everything possible to make her comfortable: offered her food, untied her chafed hands, gave her the opportunity to walk when and where she wanted, extended to her every hospitality--and yet she had still betrayed him! But then again she was only a spy--so what did it matter? He would have expected nothing more from trash. Why, then, did he feel so guilty?

He had always gotten what he wanted from women. They were enthralled with him. He was charming, dashing, handsome--and an officer in the Rebel Army, all the criteria that made the fair sex routinely melt at his feet. But Relena Peacecraft was different. She didn't melt. She was strong. Her own person. Where had she come from? Certainly not the Rebels; even the Alliance failed to produce a crop like her.

Heero saw Duo walk quickly past his tent, and sensed something in the staff officer. Was he taken by her? Did he look down on his commanding officer for his distasteful display of emotion?

"Captain!"

"Yes?"

"How is the prisoner?"

"Don't know yet, sir. She ain't saying much."

"Well, let me know."

"I will, Heero...sir."

The general saluted and leaned against the pole that held the tent upright. If his wife had seen his behavior with Relena Peacecraft, she would have left him. Something crawled inside his usually stolid soul, something peculiar. He didn't not believe the young woman. As a matter of protocol, he had no proof for or against her case.

He was tired. That had to explain why she frustrated him so easily. Couldn't she have tried to help herself? Couldn't she see that she was forcing him to kill her? He did not want another drop of blood on his hands!

Grabbing his coat and hat, he briskly walked up the hill, past the orchards and fields, past the barn and house, to his horse. The brown mare was tied inside a split rail fence. Duo, Trowa, Quatre, and Wufei kept their horses there as well. Numerous pairs of eyes gleamed in the early morning sunlight, acting as beacons for him to slowly climb over the fence and jump on.

"Where are you going?" Trowa appeared next to him and held the bridle in his hand.

"Out of my way, Captain."

"Sir?"

"Let go of my horse and keep an eye on her. Make sure she stays here this time. I'll be back soon."

Trowa's face did not mask his confusion. Heero was never one for spontaneous acts. Just taking his horse for a morning ride was not in his nature. Who was this Relena Peacecraft and why, in such a short time, had she turned the camp upside-down?


	4. Chapter 4

Relena tentatively opened her eyes. Duo was sitting in a chair beside her, cleaning his revolver, a shiny boot propped on her bed. Her head ached terribly. She turned away from him, a lump forming in her throat; she was still there. Apparently, it had not been a bad dream.

"How are ya?" the captain whispered, moving over to the bed, and sitting down beside her.

Relena ignored him.

"Miss Peacecraft, you'll be alright, really."

"And I should believe you?" She finally rolled on her back. "He has an awful temper."

"Heero? He's usually very calm. I don't know what happened."

A weak smile. "I must bring out the best in him."

"Well, I can't explain the General, but I'm sorry for what I did to you back there. I got frustrated..." Duo abruptly stood and paced the tent, hands in his pockets. "It's been a long war. Although, I know there's no excuse for treating a lady that way."

Relena nodded, but it was far from alright. "What's going to happen to me?"

"Heero will be back to tell you that, I'm sure. I'm almost positive that you'll have to stay until you tell us what you know. I reckon he'll send you to Stockholm after you confess and let them deal with you."

"How many times do I have to tell you I'm not a spy!" She yelled, upsetting the delicate balance of her pounding skull. But no amount of arguing was going to get her home. She felt sorry for herself, and began to cry.

"How's the prisoner, Captain Maxwell?" Heero entered, officer's coat on, with another man at his heels. The man was tall and thin, with long platinum blond hair and striking light blue eyes.

Duo moved away from Relena. "She's all right."

"Well?" Heero asked the man. "What do you think?"

"Let me look at her. My cousin, hm?"

The final nail in her coffin. And the person holding the hammer was Rebel General Zechs Marquise. Never had she expected Heero to actually send for him. The silence, as he held her life in his hands, was interminable and she thought she would scream.

Then suddenly: "Wait a minute, now! I think I remember Relena...third cousin once-removed, I believe. On my mother's side..." He winked at her. She stayed quiet, as he continued to scrutinize. "Old Alexander's daughter, aren't you?"

Relena tried not to blunder her own lie..."Yes, yes I am."

"Well, she is who she says she is." Zechs took the vacant chair.

The commanding general shook his head. "I don't know, Zechs. It's all too suspicious. She appears out of nowhere, walks right into my picket line, tries to escape...I don't know. I don't trust her."

"Why don't you let me talk to her then? Kin to kin. Maybe I can get somewhere."

"Alright. Not too long. I'm sure you have to get back to your position."

Duo left, with Heero right behind him. Zechs sat a little straighter, and laced his bony fingers. "Well, Miss Peacecraft, my long, lost cousin, are you?"

"Thank you for doing that." She whispered, her voice shaking. "I didn't know what else to do. I'm not a spy. They won't believe anything I say."

"Where did you come from? Is that your real name?"

"Yes...But I can't tell you anything else."

"Of course you can."

She licked her parched lips, "May I have some water first?"

He retrieved a dented canteen from a nail in the wall and Relena eagerly drank from it. The water tasted metallic, but she didn't care.

"So?" he asked.

"I was deserted by my husband on that road. I-I think he's in some trouble."

Zechs listened.

"...That's all I can say."

He paced the tent, feeling his own anger rise. "I can see why General Yuy lost his temper with you. I may have just saved your life, yet you refuse to tell even me what is really going on! I believe you are not a spy, but you know something about it, don't you?"

Gingerly, she stood, her body taut as an elastic band. As Zechs neared, Relena grabbed his hand, forced him to stop. "Please, General Zechs, you have to help me."

"I have no proof of what you say, do I?"

"Zechs?" A woman stood at the entrance of the tent. She was tall with short dark hair and long bangs. One might mistake her for a young man at first. There was a surprised look on her face, the result of seeing her comrade held in check by a frail-looking girl.

Relena let go of Zechs' arm, discouraged. She had not realized before the magnitude of trouble she was in. They were completely serious about her being a spy.

"Come in, Lucrezia."

The officer walked inside and stood silently by the far wall. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

"It's alright. General Lucrezia Noin, Relena Peacecraft...a--cousin of mine."

Lucrezia smiled, moved forward, and shook her hand. "I didn't know you had such lovely relatives, Zechs." Then she motioned to her ragged appearance, "Looks like you got into a scrap, young lady."

"General Yuy and I had a difference of opinion."

"Heero did that?"

"Ready to go, Lucrezia?"

General Noin continued to stare at Relena's disheveled hair and wrinkled clothes, and then nodded at Zechs, who cleared his throat. "Well, I have to get back to my brigade, Relena. We'll speak again."

She watched them leave, then sunk wearily to the bed. It was time to face the brutal reality. Unless Charles came back for her, she would probably be hanged soon. Quietly, she stole out of bed and made her way to the door. No one stood guard outside her tent, but she would not run again, anyway. Relena may have been an outsider in this country, but she was no fool. No sense dying before she had to. Taking a deep breath, she realized her only hope would be to befriend these people and then turn her husband in. Surely, they believed in amnesty.

First, she would have to eat something and keep her strength. Then, she could sit down and formulate what the next plan of action would be.

"Where do you think you're going?"

She knew it was Heero. His voice was deep, quiet, slow, smooth. Relena turned toward his strong silhouette. The night sky was a deep, but illuminating blue. "I'm hungry. I haven't eaten all day. I thought I'd try to find the mess tent."

"I'm not letting you go anywhere alone. Besides, the boys are done. Come into my tent. I'll ask Hilde to whip you up something edible."

"Hilde?"

"Yes, she is the owner this spread. She lives in that stone house over there, since appropriated for our headquarters."

"Can't we eat outside? It's so lovely." Her hesitation was obvious, and in her mind, well-founded.

"Do you want to share your food with the bugs?"

"Not particularly."

"Are you hungry or not, Miss Relena?"

"I-I'll wait."

"Suit yourself. The less you eat, the better off I'll be. We'll be able to break you sooner, then get rid of you." She thought she noticed a cockeyed grin on his face as he returned to his well-lit tent.

Well, it was not going to be easy, of that Relena was sure. It only took her a moment to decide how hungry she was, and in what order stood her priorities. He looked up slightly when she appeared in the doorway. "What do you want, Miss Peacecraft? I am very busy..."

A deep breath. "Food. What do you have? Something better than that--slop I was offered this morning, I hope."

"Slop? That's not a proper word for a young lady to use."

She smiled, glad she had sounded flippant, nonchalant. It would do her no good to act scared in front of him. He had proven to her once already how high his temper could rise.

"Have a seat. How about a nice steak? Or some fruit, perhaps?"

Her stomach growled. Relena nodded, and sat in the wooden chair he offered, surprised by his sudden display of charm.

"Alright, then, wait here. I'll be back shortly." He firmly gripped her shoulders. "And I mean wait!"

Relena obeyed the general.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **Thank you kindly for your reviews! I really appreciate them all...here's the next chapter!

* * *

Heero returned to the tent a short time later, a plate of food in his left hand, and a pile of dresses over his right arm. She took the thick, juicy steak from him eagerly, armed herself with a tarnished knife and fork, and ate. "Mmm, this is delicious."

"I'll tell Hilde you said so."

She swallowed another bite, barely tasting the meat. "What are those?"

He held the dresses in the air. "I took the liberty while you were sleeping to purchase some clothing for you."

The gowns were made of beautiful laces, satins, and taffettas, and were dark blue, dark green, fuschia, and yellow. Relena smiled. Since marrying Charles, she had taken to making her own clothing out of chambric and calico that he brought home, never anything as extravagant as what laid before her. "General, do you treat all prisoners this well?"

He did not answer, but instead moved the brass lantern closer to her. The light picked up her small nose, her large eyes with their long, soft eyelashes, and her full lips.

Relena put the plate aside, wiped her hands on her filthy dress, and admired the new clothes. He had good taste and spared no expense. But she could never be bought--by anyone. "General, this is very generous of you; however, I can't accept them."

"Why not? Wouldn't a new frock make up for what happened here today?"

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, unsure what to make of his intentions. He removed his gloves and unbuttoned his coat.

Relena took the last delectable bite of steak, and handed Heero the plate. It was bare, except for the fatty part of the meat, and some orange seeds.

He laughed. "Did you taste any of it?"

"The meal was wonderful. But how can you, with a clear conscience, let the rest of your army eat the repulsive food I saw this morning?"

"I try to procure the best I can for my men..."

"Yet you eat like a king."

He felt his back go up and silently cursed her. "We forage the land when possible, Miss Peacecraft. I give them all the fresh fruits and vegetables I can lay my hands on. Why are you so concerned? Do you need to report back to someone about how weak my boys may be during the upcoming fight?"

She changed the subject. "The image on your dresser; that must be your wife?"

He saw the daguerreotype to which she pointed and slowly nodded. "Yes, that is my wife."

Heero turned away.

"What did I say? I didn't mean to upset you."

He straightened his slumped shoulders and cleared his throat. "You--you didn't do anything. She is just...very ill."

Relena looked down, she was making quite an impression on him; stirring up things of which he did not want to be reminded. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to pry. It's just I thought the picture must bring comfort to you, being away from home like this."

"It does."

"You must miss your wife--."

He sighed, "I do."

She decided right then and there to keep quiet, and returned to the dresses on the bed, knowing she had to accept them. Heero was not as bad as he seemed earlier. Strict, mistrusting, perhaps, but not an evil man. Pulling out the dark green taffeta, she held it to her and twirled around. "This is really beautiful. Thank you again, General."

"So you'll take them? I hope they fit. My temper got the better of me this morning and I did something I don't normally do. I had no right to come down on you that hard. I'm no interrogator. And I am sorry, ma'am."

Relena was touched by his apology. "I'm alright, General. There was no harm done."

"You're quite intriguing, Miss Peacecraft. It is a shame we were forced to meet under such circumstances."

"Were you raised this polite, General?" Relena asked suddenly.

"I was always taught to respect women Miss Peacecraft."

Heero felt strange speaking to a prisoner so informally. His only real confidantes being Duo and Trowa. Well respected by his division commanders and his men, Heero Yuy still rarely talked with anyone or passed an evening just chatting about nothing war-related.

"What about you Miss Peacecraft?" He moved closer to her. "Tell me about yourself."

"There's nothing to tell, General." She quickly grew wary, convinced he was trying to trap her, trying to bait her. They had become too relaxed with one another. Was he still convinced she was a spy?

"Come now. Duo tells me you hail from England? Home of the free-thinker." Heero began to take note of what a truly beautiful woman she was.

"Yes."

"Are you from London?"

"No, Norfolk. My father is--my father is between occupations right now." She hastily shook the general's hand. "You've interrogated me enough for a lifetime, General. Thank you again for the dresses. I'm tired and I'd like to go to bed now, if I could."

The abrupt change in her tone angered him again. For a moment, he had forgotten what she was. Only a low-down, cowardly spy! He took her arm, "Answer me! What does your father do? For that matter, what does your husband do? And why hasn't he come back for you?"

Perhaps if she went to sleep, when she awoke next, she would be on a train bound for England; the nightmare would be over. "I'm tired, sir." Shuddering, she tried unsuccessfully to extricate herself from his powerful grip. "I-I want to go back to my tent."

Heero pulled her closer. He knew he should just let her go. Why didn't he?

Relena trembled violently now. "Thank you again, General. The dresses are beautiful. Please, let me go!"

But he did not release her.

"Please..." She whispered, hoarsely, positive she would faint.

He finally backed away. The hand that had held her he waved in the air as if the mere touch of her had burned him. "I hope you sleep well, Miss Peacecraft, and that you are ready to talk in the morning. I will have to make a decision on your well-being soon." Heero turned his back to her. "Goodnight."

Dismissed, Relena rushed outside. She walked in circles for a time, as she tried to remember the way back to her tent. When she found it, she was pleasantly surprised to see a tin tub filled with steaming water. Who had read her mind?

Once she was sure no one would disturb her, she disrobed, and threw her filthy clothes to the ground, then eased herself into the water. It was so tiny, Relena had to sit with her knees to her chest, but it was worth it.

After washing the grime off her tired body, and rinsing the borrowed soap out of her hair, she dried herself with the rough towels that hung over the frame of the tent. In the bundle of clothing Heero gave her, she found a white cotton nightgown with a delicate, ruffled neckline and put it on. She felt human again as the soft, clean fabric pampered her.

"Miss Peacecraft?" A knock on the door.

She stiffened. "Who's there?"

"Captain Maxwell, ma'am."

What could he possibly want now? "Come in."

He removed his wide-brimmed, black hat and promptly forgot what he wanted to say. She was breathtaking with her long, wet hair framing her face. "You-you look much better."

Relena smiled. "Thank you. It's amazing what some food and a hot bath will do."

"I just wanted to say goodnight and that I was sorry again--for everything."

"Apology accepted, Captain." By morning, it would all be over and she would be laughing at herself for her vivid dreams. It would be the last time she read any stories about the war.

"Where did you get these?" The braided boy touched the fuschia gown, with its gleaming black ribbons on the bodice.

"Heero."

"Well, you certainly have brought out a different side of him. Are you aware that he's married, Miss Peacecraft?"

Shaking her head at his condescending tone, she answered stiffly. "I'm well aware of his marital status, Captain. And you needn't worry about me. Firstly, I, too, am married and secondly, Heero is the man who is so fond of calling me 'the prisoner', and that is the only way I think of him."

"I'm sorry you feel that way."

"Tell me, Captain Maxwell, how else am I supposed to feel?" Her face turned red with anger. "You make it sound like he's doing me a favor. No one will tell me what's going to happen to me. I could still be hanged for treason!"

Duo was unprepared for her outburst. "I realize that, ma'am. I only meant..."

She took a deep breath. "Captain Maxwell, please stop calling me ma'am. Relena will do just fine."

"Only if you call me Duo"

"Can I do that?"

"Well, that's my name."

"I mean, will I get you into trouble?"

He smiled. "No, ma'am--I mean, Relena. I won't get in any trouble." There was an awkward silence. Duo stared at his hat. "Well, I should let you get some rest. You're probably tired."

"I'm sorry I yelled. I'm a little scared."

He felt bad for her. How could someone so lovely and so vulnerable be a spy? "Goodnight, Relena."

When she crawled under the light summer sheets, she felt something different, suffocating, that she could not put her finger on. Finally, she knew what it was. The darkness. The silence. No carriages rushing by, no sounds of a tavern or theater down the street. Relena had been abandoned. Please, she prayed, I want to go home! Let me go home.

------

Duo had to see the general. Lavishing her with gifts was not the usual procedure for a spy. Not that Duo wanted Relena to be mistreated, but why was Heero paying so much attention to her?

He walked back and forth in front of the general's tent, waiting for him to return. Heero was finishing up a meeting with Generals Zechs Marquise and Treize Kushrenada up at Hilde's house. Duo had been in attendance, but the general had sent him back to check on Relena.

A deep breath. Duo could smell the nearly-ripe grapes from the orchard. Hilde sold wine in the fall. He hoped the army would be encamped long enough for him to buy a bottle to send home, but doubted it. General Treize predicted a battle around the seventeenth. After that, the Army of Stockholm would head out of Oslo and invade farther north.

"What's wrong Duo?" Heero walked in his tent, removing his coat.

Duo followed him, knowing he was always welcome. "I-I just want to talk to you about the prisoner, sir."

Heero looked up from his desk. "What about her?"

"Well, I don't want to see her treated harshly, sir, but you gave me orders not to go easy on her, just this morning as a matter of fact, and well...I saw the dresses you bought her. While they're very nice, I don't know how appropriate--."

"Captain," The general and his aide were close. They frequently spoke on a number of delicate topics and Heero did not understand why Duo annoyed him now. "I have used my best judgement in the case of Miss Peacecraft, even pursuing the matter with General Treize. I spoke with him tonight, as a matter of fact. The commanding general wishes to talk to her himself, but it is of low priority, with the fight so close at hand. I predicted something like that and while I was out verifying her story, I thought it might be worthwhile to find her some proper clothing. It wouldn't do us any good if the prisoner became ill before we got the answers to our questions."

"I-I hadn't thought of that..."

"I am always cautious, Captain."

"I know, sir."

"Duo, I don't think it would be wise for you to...waste too much time on her."

"Sir?"

"I'm tellin' you, as a friend, to be careful; you may get hurt. These spies are clever. Don't fall into the trap. Other than keeping her healthy, her interests are subordinate to those of the Rebels." Heero could not believe how much he sounded like Treize.

"Yes, sir. Thank you." After a crisp salute, Duo walked into the humid night, more confused than before. What had the general said? To stay away from her? To watch her closely? Shaking his head, the aide was not sure.

But there was no time to think on that; some of the troops would begin skirmishing early in the morning and Treize wanted the fall of Narvik, Norway to coincide with General Zechs' capture of the hill town of Evenes. Duo knew he best get some sleep. His performance would be vital to the efficiency of Heero's army. A tired soldier was a prime target for death.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Thank you all for your reviews! I appreciate every one of them!

* * *

Relena awoke to the sound of cannons. Disoriented, she sat up quickly, and tried to remember where she was; what was going on. It was daytime, sunny, so she ventured out of bed. The hundreds of soldiers sitting, walking, drilling, reading, and talking spelled out her location. Oslo. Heero's camp. Her heart sank; she was still there.

A stray cannonball flew overhead, whistling loudly, and Relena screamed. It exploded in the forest a mile away, the ground shaking violently, as if a terrible beast was burrowing through the ground. Sporadic rifle fire signaled a battle was taking place nearby. She was frozen, unsure of what to do next.

Outside was still a portrait of calm deliberation. Most of the soldiers milled about the camp. Many were packing up; a very few were praying. After awhile, the shelling stopped and Relena decided to dress. At first, she could not decide which of the half-dozen dresses to put on. The dark green gown appealed to her and so she tried to get it over her head with trembling hands, but she could not button it. Unpinning the braids left in her hair from bedtime, her hair cascaded in a frizzy mess. She needed the housemaid from England to help her.

She spied the stone house on the hill. Perhaps Hilde was home, and would help. Fiddling with the broken lace on her shoes, she raced from her tent, across the open field, and to the house. Another cannonball flew overhead, and landed with a dull explosion a few miles to her right. She put her hand over her heart, steadied herself, then knocked on the door. No one answered. She desperately knocked again.

"Who is it?" A woman's voice.

"Relena Peacecraft, Miss Hilde. Could you help me, please?"

The door opened, an arm snaked out, and yanked her inside. "Keep your head down, dear."

Frightened, Relena followed the young woman into her cellar. The house periodically shook from the artillery. Dirt rained from the ceilings like powdered sugar.

"God, where did you come from? And who are you trying to impress with that frock? There's no one around for miles. You should be in town, or at least somewhere safer than here. By the by, my name's Hilde Schbeiker."

Relena motioned to the buttons and Hilde finished the last few. "You're shaking like a leaf. Sit down, girl, sit down. It'll be over soon."

"How do you know?"

"Because the real fight's going to be tomorrow. We have orders from General Treize himself to stay locked up tight down here."

Relena saw canned fruits and vegetables on a wooden shelf, goat cheese curing from hooks, and two rifles leaning against a rotting brick wall.

"Say, you're the young lady General Yuy came to get food for."

"Oh, yes. It was delicious, thank you."

"No problem. My family always liked by beef. Now is there anything else you'll be needing--?"

"Relena, Relena Peacecraft. Just a brush for my hair."

Hilde glanced up quickly as if weighing whether the trip would be too dangerous, darted up the stairs and moments later returned with a round, soft-bristled brush. Relena sat on a crate in front of the girl who rambled on about her love life and the farm on which she lived.

Soon her hair was neatly brushed out. "Much better, now I can see you. Relena, you say. Heero mentioned your name last night, but I am terrible with names."

"I was very hungry."

"The general is a benevolent man, don't you think?"

But Relena couldn't answer, another deafening rumble shook the very foundation of the house.

"Tell me where you came from. What in heaven's name are you doing attached to an army?" The girl's face was fair surrounded by short, dark hair; beads of sweat formed at her temples.

"I-I was lost on a road not far from here. Some pickets captured me, accused me of being a spy. But I'm not a spy, ma'am." The ma'ams were catching. "Like you said, Heero's been very kind."

A loud explosion, followed by the pitiful wails of men, forced the women to the floor. "Oh, my God!" Relena covered her ears with quaking hands.

"The fight's still far away. On the other side of the creek, I reckon. Though, that don't mean it won't get any closer."

"Miss Peacecraft!" A loud voice from upstairs. "Relena!"

"I think that's Heero." Relena got up from the dirt floor and brushed off her gown, her heart rising to her throat. Heero was probably furious at her for leaving the camp.

"Be careful..."

"Thank you again, Hilde."

When Relena reached the first floor, Heero was standing at the kitchen door, holding his hat and gloves under his arm, as if he were on military business.

She cautiously approached him, genuinely afraid. "I'm right here."

"That color becomes you." She was surprised at his comment.

"I didn't run off. I was scared and I..."

"It's better you came here. I didn't think the shelling would last this long."

"What's going on? Are you alright?" Why was she asking him that? Why did she care? She was a strong Pacifist.

"Almost all of my men are deployed. Zechs should arrive this afternoon. He'll fortify our lines, and the real fight will begin in the morning." He set his hat and gloves on the large kitchen table, and took her arms. "It will be bad. You must stay here all day, or until Captain Maxwell, Captain Barton or myself come for you. You're not to go with anyone else." The general shook her. "Do you understand?"

She nodded.

Heero turned to leave. "General Treize is in my tent and he wants to talk with you."

General Treize..."Where is Duo?" There was a tightness in her chest as they walked over the fields.

"He's checking the lines. Why?"

Her attention was distracted by four men bearing a stretcher. They dropped down next to a wounded soldier, lying by the woods where she had tried to escape. Faintly, she could hear his moans and the soothing words with which the stretcher bearers calmed him.

Heero ushered her into his tent, where the legend stood. Tall with broad shoulders and golden hair. Soft-spoken, dressed impeccably in a fine gray uniform and riding boots, pouring over a map with members of his staff.

"Sir?" Heero meekly interrupted.

Relena found it strange to observe Heero taking orders before another officer. He seemed so much his own man, as if he could control the whole army alone. Treize turned toward them and she froze.

"Miss Peacecraft?" He bowed at the waist. "Why don't you have a seat?"

Relena found her way to Heero's desk chair and waited. Treize gave a few more orders, then he turned to his most trusted advisor: "General Yuy, I thank you for your help this day and dismiss you. Ride up and down your ranks. Finish deploying your men. Captain Une?"

Treize's closest aide saluted. "Yes, sir?"

"Please make sure that we are not disturbed."

Relena detected a feminine air about Une and had to look twice before confirming her suspicions before the strict looking brunette followed Heero out of the tent.

Treize stared at her for a time, in silence; merely watching, observing, as he was famous for. Then he took a seat by the map table set up a few hours earlier. Folding his hands, he made sure he had Relena's complete attention, then began. "Heero believed you were a spy, Miss Peacecraft."

Relena shifted uneasily in her chair.

"He informed me that he may have changed his mind, though your fate will be my final decision. I saw your papers and I read reports written by the corporal who arrested you, members of General Yuy's staff, and Heero himself. Strangely, I have not been able to come to a sound conclusion. So I will simply ask. Miss Peacecraft, are you or are you not a spy?"

If Heero no longer believed she was a spy, then why hadn't he said so? Would Treize order her released? If he did, where would she go? She did not know her way around Oslo, her husband was surely long gone by now, and most of the roads were already blanketed with troops. Someone else was bound to capture her, and then what? She was sure she would not be so lucky a second time.

"Miss Peacecraft? I asked you, are you a spy working for our enemies?"

"No, sir. I was deserted on the road by my husband and found by Heero's men. I tried to tell them I was not a spy, but no one believed me." Her voice began to quiver. "My only hope was my cousin, Zechs Marquise, a general in your army." She was so nervous, she couldn't catch her breath and her words chugged out of her mouth like a train picking up speed.

"Yes, I heard. I must admit, Miss Peacecraft, that I can find great holes of doubt in your story, yet I do not have enough proof to call you a spy. The Federal forces have not strayed from what I expected, so you could not have had any contact with them in quite awhile." Treize stood," You are free to go--or stay --should you choose to, and if General Yuy agrees. It may be wise, however, if you remained with the First Corps until the upcoming fight has passed."

"Thank you, sir." They weren't going to hang her! Relief spread over her and suddenly she was exhausted and invigorated at the same time.

"Be careful, Miss Peacecraft."

Relena rose. "I will."

"When I see General Zechs, shall I give him your regards?"

"Yes, thank you."

That was it then. He dismissed her, kindly, as if she were one of his subordinates. Relena suppressed the urge to salute. Exiting the tent, she suddenly felt lighter, more in tune with herself. After all, she was alive! She would ask Heero to return her notebook so she could write again. It brought her peace and she would need that until she found her way back north. Maybe, she could do some war correspondence of her own. Writing always fascinated her.

"Well?" Heero. His arms were crossed. He was waiting for her. She was strangely flattered.

"He says I can stay or go, depending on you."

They walked together for a time, past the mess tent and into the orchards. "Depending on me?"

"General Treize thinks I'm innocent. He said I'm free to go. Only you have to agree."

"What if I don't?"

Her eyes grew wide. "Don't tell me you still think I'm a spy?"

"Zechs seemed unsure of you."

"Unsure? He remembered me, General."

"Why don't you call me Heero?" he smiled, "And I think it best if you remain. You could be a threat to us yet. Good afternoon, Miss Peacecraft."

"General Yuy?" She called to him as he made his way back to his tent and the commanding general. She should be gratefully he wasn't sending her into a strange place, far from a railroad station, but still she was unsure what he was going to do.

"Yes?"

Why couldn't he trust her? The general continued down the hill, and Relena's confusion was reinforced.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **Thanks for reading/reviewing guys...here's the next chapter!

* * *

Zechs arrived during the afternoon and by four o'clock began to position his troops near the Evenes Turnpike. The soldiers stood in awe of the eccentric general. Men gathered around Zechs' horse as he rode into headquarters that night. His "foot cavalry", now placed along the East Woods and the White Church, were weary but their spirits remained high. Zechs wanted to report that to Treize as soon as possible. Heero met him on horseback in front of the stone house.

"What do you think of him?" Filthy, Duo had finally returned, reigning in behind his commanding officer, then walking his horse to find Relena. He searched for her as soon as he was off duty, and found her in a chair outside her tent. A campfire a few feet away illuminated her face, giving her an unearthly glow. She still wore the green gown, which shimmered almost black in the night.

"Heero is much more impressive than Zechs."

The captain smiled, wholeheartedly agreeing that his general warranted more praise than any other. "I heard tell that Zechs raises one hand in the air while he rides, to keep the blood circulating."

"And that he eats lemons, and sits up straight to make sure his organs are aligned."

"How did you know that?" The smile left his face.

"I read alot. He's as famous where I come from as he is here. I'm glad to see you, Duo"

Another broad grin. "I've been out since this morning, helping Heero. I thought I should make sure you're alright. There was some pretty heavy fighting earlier."

Relena was pleased that her status as prisoner was easily dismissed. The aide acted as if she was a military attache or special camp visitor. "You've been gone all day. The sun set ages ago. Have you eaten?"

"We stopped and took rations. How about you?"

"Duo." Heero rode between them. "I need your help. Some cavalry horses broke loose and are making their way over the hill. Help me rope them in until someone comes for them."

"Yes, sir." He shrugged at Relena. "I have to go. If I don't see you, sleep well. And get to the stone house as soon as you can tomorrow. I don't know what time the fight will start, but I guarantee you it will be early."

"Alright." She stood and crossed her arms over her chest, a shiver passing through her body at the mere mention of the word 'battle'. "Be careful."

"Duo!" Heero called.

The herd of horses galloped over the hill and into the camp of the First Corps. They knocked over a line of laundry that was stretched to dry over tree limbs, and fresh coffee, stolen from a Alliance artillery unit, that was cooking over a fire. Men scurried back and forth, in every direction, dodging the wild beasts. Neighs, whinnies, and snorts, along with the clip-clop of hooves as the horses tore through the camp, made it all but impossible to hear. Heero, Duo, Trowa, and Quatre finally managed to corral them all onto one small piece of land behind Hilde's house. Soldiers whooped and yelled, many leaning toward one another to put money on the horse that would get away.

Relena took the opportunity to slip into Heero's vacant tent. She recognized her leather-bound book on his cluttered desk and took it with some pencils back to her own tent. Lighting a melted-down candle by her bed, she began to write all that she could remember from the past two days.

Time escaped her, so captivated was she by her newest project, her story, perhaps the most interesting one the New England papers would get: a Northern woman surviving behind enemy lines. It was vital that she put everything down. As the companies, brigades, and divisions assembled throughout the day, it had occurred to her the possibility of what she would witness. If she could describe the pickets who had captured her, the general and his staff, and the horror of the battles, all the generations which came after would know.

_September 15, 1852: Minding my own business when I was captured by Rebel soldiers. Their tattered, torn clothing suggested only poverty, as I did not know then who they were or where I was. Rifles, long and dark, smelling of gunpowder were jammed in my face. The group of shabby men led me, my hands bound, into a camp. The morning sun was just rising, its eastern rays blanketing the trios of men doing their chores, shaving, stretching..._

Another turn of the page.

_September 16, 1862: I awoke to the sound of shell and musket fire. A depressed feeling washed over me as I realized I was still in the camp of my host. Before the first full light, a cannonball flew overhead..._

The notebook, like the cannonballs of that morning, flew in the air, and landed with a keen smack against the side of the tent. Pages fluttered and were folded underneath one another on the ground.

Heero stood above her, furious. "I trusted you! General Treize trusted you! Yet you still betray us by writing in that damn book!"

Relena slowly backed away from the anger aimed in her direction, taking cover behind a chair. "How many times do I have to tell you, I am not a spy! I was writing a journal!"

"Am I going to have to lock you up?"

"Don't you dare!" She hissed.

He moved toward her. "Don't you see? What you're doing is considered treason!"

"Writing in a journal is not considered treason and stop yelling at me!" She began to cry.

He went to her. She was half-scared and half-angry and it showed on her expressive face. Each time he looked upon her, she was more beautiful. How fine she looked in the dress he had bought. "Then why, Relena?"

"Just look at the book. Look at it."

Skeptically, he retrieved it, shaking it of dirt and grass. A moment passed before he could tear his eyes from her face, but finally he began to read. "I don't understand. How could you not have known you were in my picket line if..."

"If I was a spy?" Her breath still came in sobs. "I would have asked you for the book, but you were too busy with the horses, so I went to your tent and took it back myself. I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't have gone in there without your permission."

"Relena, I don't know if I want you to have the book back." Heero shook the book in the air; the pages flapped like a flag caught in a strong wind. "There may not be anything of value in it now, but how am I to know what you write in it later? Especially after what may develop tomorrow?"

She watched him, so passionate in his leadership. He was not power-hungry; he didn't seem to wield his influence as a Rebel general like an axe against a tree trunk, but he stood by his convictions and somehow, Relena admired him for that.

She had been trapped behind the lines of a people who stood for something completely different than she did for less than twenty-four hours, but she felt oddly comfortable. Relena walked to the the gruff soldier. Tentatively, she placed her delicate hands on his arms. "Can't you try to trust me? I'm not a spy; I don't know the first thing about the military."

"That doesn't matter. You have eyes and ears and can easily write down what you see and hear. I have to be cautious."

Relena knew she was not going to win him over. There was too much of the skeptical soldier in him. He could not afford to let his guard down for fear of the one time he would be wrong.

"Get some sleep." He reluctantly handed her the book. "I hope to see you tomorrow--and I'm sorry I made you cry."

"Take care of yourself." She whispered, this time reluctant herself to let him go.

Suddenly, he took her in his arms and held her there for a moment--only a moment. Then Heero was gone.


	8. Chapter 8

Before dawn, the cannons roared and the bullets flew.

The soldier burst into her tent, saluting awkwardly. She recognized him as the young blond who had brought her food her first morning at the camp. "Miss Peacecraft, you must come with me. I've orders to get you to Hilde right away, ma'am, while the fight's still in the woods."

Relena was up and ready; she had been since the first shell soared overhead. Willing herself to keep calm, she had dressed in a pale yellow satin and lace gown, all the while a thin sheen of cold sweat was forming on her forehead and upper lip. Occasionally, she would dab at her face with a white handkerchief.

"What's your name?"

"Major Quatre Winner, ma'am. I'm on Heero's staff. Hurry now, there's very little time."

The ground shook with each renewed artillery blast. Rebels launched into the woods, line by line, yelling like a tribe of wild Indians. There was so much noise that Relena was unable to make out what the major was saying to her. Beams of light whizzed over her head, like fireworks on the Fourth of July. The battle was beginning around her.

"In here! Quickly!" Quatre rushed her inside Hilde's white clapboard kitchen. He apologized briefly before ordering her down cellar. In a flash, he was gone, the noise outside growing louder as he opened the kitchen door.

Relena's hands were cold and clammy, yet she was perspiring. Nervously, she did as she was told, making her way to the musty-smelling basement.

"Who's there?"

"Relena. I have orders from General Yuy to stay here."

"Well, hurry it up, girl." Hilde moved away, allowing her room to maneuver between her and the wall. Her face was ashen; Relena wondered which she worried for most, the safety of her farm, or for their lives.

"How are you?" Hilde asked.

"Fine, thank you."

"I see you got to the General alright yesterday?"

"I did."

"Go on, now. Sit over there--away from the window." She waved the unexpected visitor to a barrel at the rear of the cellar. Every few minutes, the house rocked with a new and better explosion. Artillery fire swept the fields from left to right.

As the hours passed, Relena occupied herself by taking mental notes of the objects around her: a wooden table with four thick legs, full of scratches and gouges, sat four feet away. One explosion outside. Another. Two old chairs around the table; one missing an arm, the other broken. A spinning wheel sat unused in the corner, its bobbin full of wool ready to be pressed into thread. The crash of enfilade fire. A volley of muskets.

Dermail's boys charged along Akershus. They charged against the center of Zechs' exhausted line. "Lighting Count" and Lucrezia tried to press them back, but II Corps General Trent reinforced the Alliance. Treize threw in Wufei to hold off the masses. One of Dermail's men, General Hart, was the first Alliance officer to fall. Then his injury was countered by the death of General Lo, one of Zechs' commanders.

At six o'clock came a warm sun, and with it, the Alliance XII Corps. Heero desperately called in Lucrezia and all the men he could muster.

"What's next, Heero?" Quatre asked, leaning eagerly forward on his mount.

"I need more men. What's happening at the church? Send for word!"

Quatre galloped off, ducking every now and then as a shell whistled particularly loud overhead. His horse was sweating, but he pushed on until he was in sight of the cornfield, the East and West Woods, and the miniature, white church. Lifting his field glasses, he saw Zechs' men being forced back by General Dermail. Nearly out of ammunition, the devout Rebel general began to withdraw his troops.

Panicked, the major raced back to his commanding officer. Heero was leaning forward on his horse, shouting orders to the commander of the Oslo Artillery.

"What is it?"

Quatre saluted when he realized the general was addressing him. "Zechs is pulling back. He's being pummeled by Dermail's troops near the church. Do you have orders, sir?"

"Send in Lucrezia and Wufei. Pull the lines closer together. Tell Zechs to hold at all cost. We can't lose the area."

"Yes, sir."

With Quatre's orders safely delivered, Zechs redeployed and left Lucrezia to control the lines. When Wufei fell back, the Rebels lost momentum and Trent saw his chance. Early and part of Trent's cavalry formed on Noin's left. Dermail's lined up on the right. With a swift push, the Rebels disintegrated, leaving only the pitiful wails of death behind.

------

The afternoon had finally arrived. Relena noticed Hilde was becoming agitated. She would pace the floor, grab her gun, put it down, then moments later, pace again.

"What is it?" Relena finally spoke. She had been quiet all morning, too terrified of the blasts and screams to talk. "What's wrong?"

"The fight's moved to the sunken road--at the rear of our spread. The armies are coming too close to the house. They'll be at the orchard soon."

"Maybe they'll move a different way..."

"Their yelling is getting louder! Can't you hear it?" Her voice rose. "They're coming this way!"

"Calm down, Hilde. General Treize gave us his word that he would stay away from the house." Fear seeped out of Relena's eyes, as she tried to focus her energy on positive thinking. She needed to be strong for her.

"Treize may stay away, but that doesn't mean the Alliance will!"

As if on cue, a powerful blast shook the very foundation of the country house. Dust showered from the ceiling and Relena screamed. Hilde ran to the small, ground-level window, and saw thousands of men running wildly.

"Get away from there for God's-sake, Hilde!"

"They're moving artillery batteries up here! To my property!"

Relena was up in a flash. "Who?"

"I don't know. Heero, I think."

Rows and rows of blue soldiers formed, moving in a silent, deadly line toward the sunken road. Screams of agony filled the air as charge after charge went forward. Assaults of suicide. A little later, there was another assault, and then another synchronous high-pitched shriek.

Relena's skin crawled. She could only imagine the carnage outside the semi-safe haven of the farmhouse. Wave after wave of Alliance soldiers were cut down like grass before a scythe. Where one regiment went, another followed, and then another, toward the same end. All were blasted to pieces within minutes by the well-entrenched Rebels.

Then the tide changed. The Alliance army forced their way across the sunken road, over the bodies of their comrades, piled five, sometimes six, deep. The Rebels were sent scrambling across Hilde's expansive fields.

Just then, round after round of artillery opened up in the orchard. It was deafening. Officers bellowed orders. Load! Fire! Another round, boys!

"I'm going up!" Relena dashed for the stairs.

"No, you're not." Hilde grabbed her around the waist, and swung her away from the door.

"Let me go! He could be wounded!"

"Who are you talking about? Sit still!"

She sat on the dirty floor, arms wrapped about her knees. Pulling them up to her chin, Relena rocked back and forth. Her face grew pale as she heard the agonizing sound of dying men piling up on the green grass outside.

Canister. Grapeshot. Bursting pieces of shrapnel making great gaps in the lines. A maelstrom of sound. Cannons echoing off the hills; hundreds of rifles discharging at once. Her ears were ringing. It would be a wonder if Heero remained alive. Heero...why was she so filled with thoughts about him?


	9. Chapter 9

General Chang Wufei, good friend of Heero's, had rallied his men into the sunken road. Parts of Lucrezia's divisions followed. The fight had been glorious. But then Noin went down, and immediately after, so had his second-in-command. The third ranking officer became lost in the confusion, and did not know he was next to take the lead. His lines became ragged; they were losing steam.

After a half-hour of vicious fighting, where Lucrezia and Wufei formed behind Zechs, the Lighting Count turned and headed to the rear, convinced that they had orders to do so. The Alliance took the upper hand and Wufei fell back.

Artillery was almost depleted in the cornfield and close to the Hilde's house. Heero noticed and waved Duo aside.

"Get the rest of the boys; man the cannons. Keep them hot!"

"Yes, sir." Duo motioned to Trowa, Quatre, and Wufei. The four ran to the lanyards and began priming and firing the fieldpieces. Heero held the reigns of his brave friend's horses, pleased when the firepower picked up.

Suddenly, two regiments led by Alliance General Dermail, began to scale the crest to the east of Hilde's house. Colonel Trent shouted orders to set up the Alliance artillery. But then a miracle occurred: one of Heero's cannons cut down Dermail in mid-stride and his lines became chaos.

Then forming on the crest was Lucrezia Noin, musket in hand, firing on the runaway Alliance troops. Her men planted a Rebel battle flag and claimed the rolling hill as their own. Batteries were moved to the rear and shells were lobbed toward the creek, where Trent was laboring hard to make it across the third bridge. Above and below, two crossable fords had eluded his exhausted men.

Heero began his ride. He joined Treize for a short time behind Lucrezia's lines. Noin joined them in looking over the battered crest. Suddenly, a puff of white smoke discharged from across the way and Heero watched Lucrezia fall from her horse. The animal's two front legs had been instantly amputated by the shell.

"There is a shot for General Noin." The general shook his head in amazement. "One of the best damn shots I ever saw."

"I can't get up!" Lucrezia struggled under the horse's weight, the stench of burnt flesh and innards assaulting her nose like a locomotive. "Can't get out from under!"

"Swing your leg over the pommel." Heero leaned down to help his friend, still amazed at the precision of the blast.

Heero then rode near the White Church, ordering to prepare for another attack. Zechs sent a courier to report he was on his way with new ammunition.

Late in the afternoon, the Alliance troops finally made it across the bridge and over the west bank. The Alliance hold on the bridge was lost, but Wufei, one of the recent crop of generals in the dwindling Army of Stockholm, swept in and kept the Alliance at bay, and suddenly, the eighteen-hour battle was over.

------

The sun went down, and the noises grew fainter. There was a silence--an eerie, deafening silence. On cue, Relena ran up the stairs, tripping on the hem of her gown and nearly falling on the weathered, wooden planks.

Hilde called after the impetuous girl, warning her that it may not be over. But Relena ignored her, and pushed the heavy kitchen door open with a slam. She blinked once to absorb the descending sun.

A sour taste rose from her stomach into her throat. Men were scattered everywhere. Pools of blood filled great, mauled ditches. Limbs were missing bodies. Bodies were missing limbs. Relena looked at the harrowing sights, but did not see them.

A stray shell landed a few feet from her. The dirt kicked up in her face.

"Relena!"

She tried to focus on the voice, but could not. Slipping into a groove made by an overused fieldpiece, she placed her hand on a fallen cannon to steady herself, then jerked away. It was red-hot. Relena walked backwards, amazed that the farmhouse had not been hit. The destruction was overwhelming. Then she fell, splash, into a puddle. She put her hand on the ground, tried to lift herself up, noticed her yellow dress was covered in blood. She screamed, twisting first to one side, then to the other. Her hand sunk into something soft. Relena looked to her right; horseflesh, open, oozing, fly-covered horseflesh. She screamed again, ran to the safety of the house, vomited hard, and let out another piercing cry.

"Drink, Relena!" Duo grabbed the back of her neck; shook her hard. "Drink!"

She did, rinsed her mouth, then spat the water onto the ground. Finally, she calmed and drank some more. Silent tears ran down her face and Duo took her in his arms.

The aide closed his eyes and let her sink against his dust-covered shoulder. "Are you alright?" He finally asked.

Relena nodded, too frightened to speak.

"It's over."

Her mind was suddenly filled with the image of another man and she pulled away from Duo. "Where's Heero?"

"Don't know. We haven't been able to find him." He pitied her, with her blood-stained dress and dirt-smeared face.

"Duo!"

Letting her go to answer the artillery sergeant who called him, he saw Trowa on the ground behind a dismantled caisson. The adjutant general gasped in pain, blood covering his uniform.

Duo was unsure what to do. Should he move the wounded man himself? He waved Relena over; a woman had inbred nursing skills. Relena dropped to her knees next to Trowa. She touched his jacket. Blood and dirt was everywhere, making it impossible to locate the wound.

"Can you move?" She asked and he nodded, weakly. Relena looked up at Duo "I'll take care of him." It seemed easier than standing amidst the rubble, staring at the men writhing in agony and the horses with great, gaping holes in their stomachs.

In a moment, she had Trowa moving. He staggered, helpless. She half-dragged him to the house, stepping over dead soldiers along the way. Propping the captain against the door, she kicked it open after a few tries.

"I'm going to put you at the table."

He nodded, then gasped when his back came in contact with the chair. Relena apologized then went to the stone sink. Gingerly, she worked the lever of the pump until water began to run out. It was stiff at first, but she managed to douse a strip of her skirt, and wipe the blood that caked over the abrasions on his back. He was a little embarrassed when she stripped him to the waist, but surrendered.

"These cuts are deep. How did this happen? You weren't shot, were you?"

"A shell exploded behind me, knocked me unconscious."

"You need to see a doctor, Captain." She tore another strip from her petticoat and made a makeshift bandage.

He winced and felt a strange tingling in his legs. "Call me Trowa."

Relena smiled to herself as she went to the door and called for the stretcher bearers. When she returned to the sink, she took an empty glass, filled it, and offered the wounded man some water. "Have you seen Heero?"

"The general was at the crest of the ridge of Akershus with General Treize, then he moved to the sunken road." Trowa gratefully drank. "Some time later, he was back at the farm. All the gunners were shot down. We had to man the cannons ourselves. You should have seen Heero. You would have been proud. He was everywhere at once."

Relena thought it strange that Trowa hoped she would be proud of his commanding officer--the man to whom she was still a prisoner. Even more strange was that she was proud. "Who else on the staff was hit?"

"Wufei was shot in the arm. Quatre, too. But I think they'll survive."

Quatre had risked his life earlier to get her to the house safely. She would have to check on him.

"How are you, Captain?" General Treize walked briskly into the kitchen, followed by a host of men. Trowa tried to stand and salute, but only succeeded in wobbling against the table top. "I'm a little weak, sir."

"Stay seated, Captain. I pray that it is only a minor wound and that you will be back with us soon."

"It's just a scratch, General."

Relena spoke up, "It's more than that."

Behind Treize came generals fresh from the battlefield. Both were covered in dust, dirt, and some in blood. It was Lucrezia Noin, and Zechs Marquise.

"Where's General Yuy?" Trieze asked. "Have you seen Heero?"

They all shook their heads, shrugged their shoulders, confessed to having lost track of the omnipresent First Corps commander. Relena became worried. No one knew where he was and it did not help that she could see the lines of distress on Treize's haggard face.


	10. Chapter 10

The general-in-chief could not delay any longer. Treize turned to the business at hand, and spread maps on a desk his aide had set up in the kitchen. They began to discuss post-battle strategies and to make assessments of the day.

Lucrezia said that the Rebels called the fight the Battle of Alna--for the tributary nearby. Zechs, with his icy eyes and graceful nose, added that he heard the Alliance considered Oslo a victory for themselves. That statement caused grumbling from the others. It was more certainly a victory for the Rebels.

"What do you consider this day?" Treize looked to Relena, who watched the war conference with interest.

"Me?"

"Yes, you were in the middle of the fight. Which side do you think was favored?"

"I-I don't know, sir. Your troops held at the sunken road and at the White Church."

"And at the woods, General." Lucrezia concurred.

"So, could the victory be ours?" Treize asked, and the words hung in the air like the smoke of battle outside.

"I would venture to say so." Heero arrived from the field, removing his tan riding gloves. When he saw Relena, he bowed and took off his hat with a grand gesture. She breathed a sigh of unexpected relief; he was safe! But then she closed her eyes; he was the enemy. She was a pacifist woman.

He frowned when he saw his adjutant. "How are you, Trowa?"

"I've been better. Miss Relena's taking care of me."

The general smiled a gentle smile. "Then I've no doubt you'll be well soon."

"There is my Old War-horse." General Treize was happy to see Heero and shook his hand with more than a little conviction. "Let us hear what he has to say."

Heero and Treize exited to another room, while the other two generals continued to survey the maps in front of them. Hospital orderlies finally made their way into the farmhouse, and Trowa protested, but allowed them to assist him outside. "Relena, I must see to Heero's horse."

"We'll find someone to take care of the horses." She stared after him as he became just another wounded soldier in the distant, ravaged fields of the Schbeiker farm. Troops from both sides were collecting dead and wounded, burying who they could, under a flag of truce. Perhaps, now would be the time for escape. Heero was busy, the landscape was still confused.

But she did not have the energy to undertake such a journey that day. She did not have the energy to try to explain to the Alliance troops how she appeared from the enemy side. No, Relena was safe and should be thankful for that. If her husband had had his way, she would be swinging from a tree limb by now.

Again, she surveyed the scene in front of her. It was surreal, like a painting from a book. She could not seem to pinpoint any specific sight she had witnessed, but her stomach churned with the memory of stepping from the door of the house for the first time.

Relena looked around her. Where was Duo? He had been so kind to her, so concerned for her well-being. A wooden fence separated the orchard from the fields and he stood by it, as the moon rose, illuminating the dark blue sky; illuminating the mangled bodies that littered the ground in front of him. The spilled intestines and missing limbs were blurred by the darkness; the wounded were falsely at peace.

"Why are you standing here, watching them?" Relena leaned on the fence beside him.

Duo smiled when he saw her. Even covered in blood and dirt, she was striking. "All that's left now is for the Good Lord to take them to a better place." His face matched hers in dirt, grime, and soot.

Suddenly, a song from her youth came to mind; it was an old hymn that had been sung at church on Sunday. She remembered holding her father's hand, listening to her mother's sweet soprano voice. Relena began humming as memories came flooding back.

"That sure is fine." Duo watched her.

The song seemed right, the perfect eulogy for all the men who had been killed on the fields and in the orchard. And for the thousands she could not see in the woods, at the church, and at the sunken road, appropriately renamed Bloody Lane.

_'Amazing Grace,_

_How Sweet the Sound,_

_That Saved a Wretch Like Me...'_

Heero stopped at the door to the farmhouse, her voice beckoning him like water to a thirsty man. It was odd. The leaders were discussing where Heero had been. He had helped a displaced family in Oslo, had given orders for the following day, and then realized he should report in. As he was telling this to Treize, her voice floated through the shell-shocked trees and into the cracked and shattered windows of the house. First Treize had looked to the sound, then the god-fearing Zechs, then finally the others. They all felt a lump in their throats, a clench in their hearts, and an ache in their chests.

_'I Once Was Lost,_

_But Now am Found,_

_Was Blind But Now I See.'_

The sweet, sad melody echoed into the night and not another sound was heard. Both Alliance and Rebel officers stopped shouting orders. Both Alliance and Rebel soldiers let the song take them back to the comforting arms of their mothers. Wagons rumbling, canteens clinking, shovels digging into the soft ground soon fell silent.

_'Twas Faith That Taught,_

_My Heart to Feel..._

_And Grace My Fears Relieved_

_How Precious Did that Grace Appear_

_The Hour I first Believed.'_

Humiliating tears came to Heero's eyes. What was happening? How could this woman, who appeared out of nowhere, have such a profound affect on him? He was married, an officer whose first duty was to the Rebel Cause.

He saw Duo move closer to her, letting the tension drain away with each note. Heero knew he should mind his own business, even encourage a relationship. Duo deserved someone. His friend was a hard worker, a good man, one who would make any woman proud.

But he could not do it. "Duo?"

Surprised, Duo stood straight, saluted. "Yes, General?"

"Help the others with the ordnance. Arrange for a meeting of the officers in my tent in, say, two hours."

"Yes, sir."

With the aide gone, Heero resumed his walk from the kitchen door to Relena's side. "Thank you for your help--with Trowa, I mean."

"You're welcome." There was silence. "You do that a lot."

"What?"

"Send Duo away when you see him talking to me."

"Captain Maxwell has responsibilities--twenty four hours a day."

"Like you?"

He stroked his chin. "Like me."

"I must admit I was worried about you, Heero."

"Well," The word hung in the air, "there was no need."

"It was such an awful day."

"You get used to war." Heero paused. "I'm sorry you had to be here."

"I've gained quite an appreciation for life, believe me." There was a sad hint of sarcasm in her voice.

"Maybe I should let you go. Perhaps it is too dangerous."

Panicked tightened her chest. _Please, don't send me away._ "Are you expecting another fight?"

The general shook his head. "No, the Alliance is pulling out. We'll move back into Stockholm--for supplies, I suppose. You can stay, if you wish. Until you contact your husband, at least."

They fell silent again. Relena desperately needed to sink into safe arms and standing next to the stolid general made her head spin.

"That song--Amazing Grace? What made you sing it?"

"I remember going to church with my mother, hearing her sing. It seemed fitting somehow."

"Hmmm." Was all he said. "It's pretty."

"It is." She looked into his tired, kind eyes. "You must be exhausted."

He straightened up, took off his hat. Her staring unnerved him. "I'm never exhausted. Relena, do you love your husband?"

He asked that so quickly, so unexpectedly, she was not even sure he had. How she wanted to tell him that she had no one, and was so very lonely. "We argue all the time. How could I love someone that would give so little thought to my well-being?"

"Pray I never meet up with him..."

Relena was taken aback. "Why?"

"Because of the danger he put you in, leaving you with the enemy, practically handing you to us."

"You aren't really the enemy, are you?"

"You thought I was when you first got here." A pause. "And vice versa."

"That seems like ages ago."

He stepped away, offering her the path in front of him. They began the walk to her tent. "Ah, but it wasn't. It was but two days ago. And you had better get some sleep."

Heero held his arm to her, and she gratefully took it. Everything was getting so confused, so complicated. She almost did not want to go home. Relena was forgetting everything: her family, her duty to her husband. That life was being replaced by a new one. And in that new one, she had found companionship with Duo and Heero--people who wanted to take care of her. It was a nice feeling. One she was not anxious to give up.

_The End._

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**A/N:** Thanks for reading! I hope y'all enjoyed the story! All your reviews were greatly appreciated, and my next GW story is in the making! Thanks again!...see ya next time!

--March 1, 2009-- Okay, so there's been a lot of worried reviews regarding the end of _Amazing Grace_ and I have decided to start writing a sequal to it. Originally that was how it was meant to end but due to all your reviews and support I've decided to continue! As well my good friend Jonathan (a fellow GW fanatic) has decided to help me write the sequal which should be posted soon. Thank you fellow Gundam Wing fans, thank you!--


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